Lazarus
by HexeChick
Summary: For what is a Demon without its Head?


DISCLAIMER: Batman, _Batman Begins_ and any related characters and concepts belong to DC Comics, Bill Kane, Bob Finger Warner Brothers, etc. This is not for profit and no copyright infringement is intended.

This little story was inspired by the end of _Begins_. Those who are familiar with Batman will recognize the people and concepts. The setting of the story is based off what I know about Ra's origin in the comic and B:TaS. Enjoy!

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_**Lazarus**_

_Then Jesus six days before the passover came to Bethany, where Lazarus was which had been dead, whom he raised from the dead -- John 12:1_

In the aftermath of Gotham's brush with madness and the devastating train crash that ended it all, the fire department, dragging along several overworked paramedics, was tasked with clearing the debris around Wayne tower and containing the fires raging within the Narrows. Those sent to Wayne tower breathed a sigh of relief, and counted themselves amongst the lucky ones. In the chaotic hours following the crash and the deployment of the GFD, no one noticed the unauthorized paramedic group that arrived. The van was labeled as a possession of one of Gotham's private ambulance services. If anyone noticed that the two men seemed unusually taciturn and intimidating, and the women exceptionally beautiful, nothing was said. The three combed the debris carefully, looking for only one survivor. In the rubble of the first car, forgotten underneath Wayne Tower, they found him, body pinned beneath a twisted scrap of metal. The three carefully shifted his still-breathing form onto the stretcher as fast as possible, taking care not to waste any time. They had a small window in which to restore him, for even his superhuman endurance could not prevent the effects of such a traumatic event for long. The woman tenderly covered his form with a sheet as they brought him to the street above using the lone functioning elevator in the subterranean parking deck. As they packed him into the ambulance, they informed a curious fire chief that they were taking a homeless bum (unluckily sleeping on the train) to Gotham General, little good it would do. The man nodded, distracted by the demands of his men. The woman got in the back and the men climbed into the front seats. The man in the passenger side picked up the sword he had left on the floor and flicked on the siren. The ambulance sped into the night, destined for a private jet at Gotham International and ultimately to the searing deserts. The woman hoped they would reach their destination in time.

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They were greeted at the cavern, a fortress concealed deep in a hidden city, carved of rock thousands of years ago and masked by time and the steady sandstorms that hungrily prowled the area like clockwork. It had once been home to a mighty civilization, before it had been felled by the Demon whose Fang now controlled it. The woman led the way, her back ramrod straight in this place where she was Head (God willing, only temporarily), and amongst men who would die at her slightest command. Black figures bowed before her as she headed to the Pit, and the two men carrying the stretcher followed. They made their way down innumerable stairs to a pool of warm, steaming water. The water glowed a poisonous green from the light of the massive torches reflecting off the strange green mineral embedded in the rocky walls of the pool. Unknown to this planet, the mineral was said to be created by the _homo magi._ Still others hypothesized that they had arrived in a massive meteor shower thousands of years ago, creating this pool and the handful of others controlled by the Fang. In the end, it was no matter. The woman caressed the face of the man lying on the stretcher, hoping they were not too late. The two carriers were joined by others clad in black, and they moved the man to a steel bed, strapping him to the frame, a precaution designed to curb the temporary madness that resulted from the submersion.

The steel cable connected to all four sides of the pallet joined over the man's prone form, connecting the frame to the long arm of a crane. At the woman's nod, the operator slowly raised the man's form up and over the pool and just as carefully lowered him in. The Society members waited with bated breath, most of them (excepting the woman) too young to have seen this fabled process occur before. After a few minutes that felt more like agonizing hours, the steel cable emerging from the water began to buck and shake. The crane operator hurriedly raised the steel pallet from the water and lowered it on the cool rock of the cavern floor, the man's form bucking wildly all the while. The sable-haired woman quickly knelt at his side, holding his head in place while his eyes wildly rolled back. After thirty seconds, the man's breathing slowed and his eyes blinked, adjusting to the dim light.

"Father?" whispered Talia, her hands still on either side of Ra's face. Ra's al Ghul coughed up water and gasped.

"Beloved?" he asked hoarsely, looking at his daughter's face. Talia smiled in relief and clutched her father's shoulders as his followers undid the straps holding him to the steel frame. In her nearly seventy years of life, she had never been as worried about her father before. It seemed that each submersion in the Lazarus Pit had harsher effects. No matter. The Demon had once again reared its head. Its fangs could now strike at corruption everywhere. At Gotham. And at Bruce Wayne. However, as Ra's looked at Talia, he began to think that Bruce Wayne might be a job better suited to the Demon's Daughter than to his Fang.

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Ten points to the lucky reviewer who tells me where the nickname Ra's calls his daughter is from!!


End file.
